


Red Lines

by JazzyJexBird



Series: Red Lines [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), johnlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:06:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzyJexBird/pseuds/JazzyJexBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall, John is sitting in a restaurant waiting for a job offer. But gets an even better surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Lines

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning is based off of the Series 3 trailers when Sherlock is going to see John for the first time in 3 years at the restaurant. 
> 
> I hope you pretties love it! Please enjoy :)
> 
> I also own absolutely nothing nor anything to do with Sherlock.
> 
> P.S.  
> I have re-edited the first chapter so that it is more concise with it being in the present and not being told from the future...

Chapter 1

The water sliding down my throat quenched the anxiety building in my stomach. While the hum of other people eating in the restaurant is keeping the thoughts wiring inside my brain relatively calm and quiet. There is a new surgery looking for doctors to employ and the man I am meeting tonight had arranged an interview in this beautiful place. 

Many delicious items on the menu are catching my eye but then I see the price right beside it and it makes me sigh, wishing I was offered the job so that I could afford food like this. I finally decided to look at the menu later, placing it neatly on the white table cloth. 

A man is standing beside the table, his fingertips placed gently on the table by my wine glass. The thin fingers look rough and calloused along with the rest of his hand; pale red lines flow up his wrist and become hidden by the charcoal arm of his suit jacket. The white shirt he is wearing underneath is crisp and fresh. A sliver of collar bone showing through the only button left undone.

When I finally reach his face my mind betrays me with its astounding array of emotions, clouding any deductions I am trying to make. His eyes stare at me from beneath a bushel of dark curls. Comprehending the look of fear and nervousness in those eyes make my mind rear back into cognitive thought. 

Bouncing up from the table I grab his hand and pulled him through the crowded restaurant and out to the street. When I finally turn back to him, his face is baring the look of astonishment. Some part of me never doubted that he was still alive somewhere, always wondering when or if he would return. I take in the features of his face, how pale he has become and the severely dark circles surrounding his eyes. There is a cut on the bridge of his nose that is healing slowly and his lip are swollen around another cut in his lip. 

The suit he is wearing looks too big for him like he has lost far too weight. “John...I…” he starts, but I pushed my hand up to stop him. His voice is rough like sandpaper. I suddenly realized that I’m still holding his hand; the warmth it gives is incredibly welcome given the circumstances. Pulling him towards the curb of the road I hail a cab. A cab finally slows to where we were standing and I pull him into the back.

“221B Baker Street, please” I tell the cabbie without looking at him. I can’t bring myself to stop looking at Sherlock or to release the grip I have on his hand. As the cab lurches forward I noticed that he is looking at my hand holding his. “I…can’t…I don’t want to let go” I sputter, realizing how it sounds. Sherlock lifts his face from our hands and looks at me as he tightens his grip.

Realizing that we are at the flat, I pay the cabbie and gently pulled Sherlock out and onto the sidewalk. I pull the keys out of my pocket and open the door. We slowly made our way up the stairs and into the flat. Still holding his hand, I move Sherlock over to the couch and motion for him to sit. When he does I finally loosen the grip on his hand and let go. Moving over to the kitchen I grab to cups from the cupboard and fill the kettle to place on the stove.

Taking the first aid kit from the drawer, I walk back to where he is still sitting on the couch and I crouch in front of him; placing the kit on the coffee table before opening it. I take out an alcohol swab and open the package; when I look up Sherlock is just staring at me. A look of amusement suddenly evident on his face, ``you don’t need to do that you know``. Beneath the scratchy sound of his voice I can hear the relief and exhaustion from the tone he conveyed. 

``Yes I do, now let me do it`` Voicing the amount of relief and concern I have been feeling since bringing him home. He nods his head and I go to work cleaning up the cuts on his face. When I’m done, I place the swab on the table and get up to finish the tea I had begun earlier. Sherlock calmly takes the cup of tea from my hand and seems to relax even further into the couch. As I sit down next to him, I notice that he has drank almost all of it in one go. 

``Whoa, slow down or you`re going to burn yourself” I say as he brings the empty cup down to his lap.

“Sorry, I haven’t had a good cuppa in a very long time, thank you John.” He whispers. “I should explain…”

“Nope, not now, wait until tomorrow after you’ve had a good night sleep.” He nods his head and I place my cup down on the table. I pick up his cup and place it next to mine before taking his hand again and leading him to his bedroom; which has been untouched except when Mrs. Hudson goes in to dust and sweep. 

Turning on the bedside lamp, I place Sherlock on the edge of his bed. I finally notice he looks as exhausted as he sounds. Releasing his hand again I go about getting his sleep wear out of the dresser and stacking them beside him. 

Kneeling down I unlaced his shoes and slide them off his feet, putting them on the floor beside his bed. “I’ll leave you to do the rest; I’ll be back in a minute.” I say while heading towards the door. Closing the door behind me is defying the want of never letting him out of my site. As I stand there, I keep praying that this is actually real and not a trick of my rattled brain. After five minutes I open the door again to find Sherlock pulling his t-shirt over his head. The red lines I had seen earlier on his wrist stretched much farther up his arm and along his back. He has definitely lost too much weight in the time he’s been gone. Skin wrapped tightly around his shoulder blades, ribs and spine.

Sherlock turns around when a gasp escapes my mouth. ``Tomorrow``, he urged, as he sit back down on the bed. ``Right…I’ll let you get some rest then…I`ll just be upstairs if you need me…Okay?” I murmur turning towards the door.

“No… wait…will you stay here tonight…with me?” he asks while looking at me nervously. “If that is what you want…then yes I’ll stay.” Moving over to the other side of the bed I take off my suit jacket and tie and slowly make my way under the blankets. Shutting the lamp off he climbs under the blankets with me; placing his hand deliberately on my arm as if to make sure I’m not leaving. 

His breathing begins to slow as Sherlock starts drifting to sleep. I relax knowing he is there with me and the feel of his hand on my arm sends radiating heat all over my body. As I began to drift off myself, all I can think about is that Sherlock was finally home and safe with me.


End file.
